Strategies of War
by Flight
Summary: The entire thing. Torture, 1x2, other nasty stuff. Loads of fun, edge of your seat thrills.


Chapter One  
Strategy: Poker  
  
"Okay, Heero. You're number's up this time and there's no avoiding it!" Duo beamed as he began flipping his cards onto the table.  
Ten of hearts. Jack. Queen. King. Duo left the last card upside down on the table before him, deliberately pissing his friends off.  
Wufei cracked first. "Flip the damn card, Du-twit!" he spat. He quickly reached over the table to do the deed himself, but Heero caught his wrist and bent it in a disgustingly unnatural and brutal manner.  
"Are you still in the game?" Heero questioned Wufei in a monotone, never taking his eyes from Duo's card.  
"No, but.." the Chinese boy tried to protest, but he found he had no sympathetic audience and gave up. Heero released his wrist and motioned for Duo to continue.  
Ace of Hearts. His royal flush ruthlessly destroyed Heero's mediocre hand.  
"Duuuu-oo's the champion, my friends.." he sang out, almost knocking the table over in the process.  
"Well I'll be damned" Wufei sighed. "Du-twit had a great hand all this time and he managed to keep his big trap shut!" He laughed, astonished, as Duo completed his victory dance, wagging his ass over the table.  
Heero grunted and pushed his chair in before abandoning the dimly lit kitchenette. Wufei sighed and followed Heero, each boy returning to his private hotel room overlooking Central Park. Duo cleaned off the table and counted the cards. Fifty-one. He crouched low to look beneath the table and found the renegade ace of spades resting on Heero's chair, with a short note written in black ink.   
7am. Park bench  
Mission  
Duo sighed and wiped the ink from the card before returning it to the deck. His last waking hour was spent grinning.  
  
As he dragged himself out of bed, Duo barely opened his eyes. He took an extra long time in the shower, pleasuring himself with the though of spending time alone with Heero on the mysterious mission. He towel-dried his hair and plaited it while still damp. He gave his reflection a knowing smile before pulling a well-fitting black turtleneck over his head. After re-arranging his bangs and pulling on black pants, he grabbed a large gray sweatshirt and set out.  
It was ten 'till when he arrived at the designated spot- he was never one to disappoint with tardiness- but realized he could never win. Heero sat, one ankle resting on the other knee, reading a thick maintenance manual.  
"I was always curious as to why they don't have an Auto-Clean button like the oven," he commented in a relaxed manner, plunking down next to Heero. The Japanese pilot slammed his bible shut and rolled his eyes before leading Duo to the taxi that waited unobtrusively on the next alley over.  
  
  
Chapter Two  
Strategy: Backgammon  
  
"It's as simple as this, Duo," Heero explained when they were situated in the car. His unending monotone simply died in the upholstery, which seemed to retain the scent. He opened up his laptop and launched a program. Layer after layer of maps popped up on the screen, finally allowing Duo to view a layout of a mansion.  
  
"Treize is faltering in his control," Heero continued. "We must take advantage of OZ's weakness. Here are the filemaps I just showed you," he gave Duo a black diskette, "as well as the details of the mission. You merely have to keep the North wing off my ass while I use the codes Wufei got," he produced two dark red diskettes, each bearing a navy diamond, "to disrupt the Mobile Doll transmission system."  
  
"Why does Treize have to be entertained?" Duo noticed what the North wing contained. The master bedroom, master bathroom, two smaller chambers, and an odd passageway in the half bath that seemed to lead to the attic. "Won't there just be the normal foot soldier dudes? You can handle them." His tone, in a rare state, was skeptical.  
  
"Only Treize has the override key, which Wufei kindly produced a copy of." Heero flicked it onto the de-coding disks in his lap. It resembled a hotel-room key; a business card shape with a upc-like set of lines on the back.  
  
Duo shook his head, a half-smile betraying his opinion of Wufei's 'method' of obtaining information. Slut.  
  
As if reading Duo's very mind, Heero commented upon the source.  
  
"Wufei has always been loyal to the cause, but he needs to reflect upon his actions. He takes the ideal of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer a tad too far."  
  
Duo laughed out loud, sheer amazement taking over. "Well, I do believe that is the longest phrase you have ever spoken" but before Duo could finish the thought, Heero interrupted.  
  
"Well it's hard to get a word in edgewise around you, baka." He gave Duo a thick manila envelope ("Your train ticket"), and got out of the taxi at the next corner.  
  
Chapter Three  
Strategy: Chess  
  
Duo repositioned his sunglasses, lowering them to get a better view of the train station. His left hand hefted a small but substantial duffel bag over his shoulder. Albeit they weren't necessary in this weather, but he liked the way they looked.  
  
Heero's instructions had been very precise. The word document contained in the disk explicitly outlined Duo's trip to South Carolina. Duo had packed light and was clothed to blend. His unruly hair was covered with a black messengers hat of heavy felt. He wore a black coat of knee length open over black cargo pants and a white collared shirt. There was no doubt that anyone would think him other than a student returning home.  
  
The throng of people in the tightly packed station was mainly concerned with it's own trials. Merely finding the correct platform took effort- navigating the mob was a completely separate ordeal. It was late December and a soft snow was falling in New York. Everything had a gray haze about it because of the constantly overcast sky. It was 4:25 in the afternoon. Duo's train would arrive in ten minutes.  
  
He began to wonder how Heero would manage to get down to the mansion when a navy-garbed stranger joined him on the bench. Duo glanced at his watch. 4:30. He noticed his companion had absurdly good posture and slumped down to make his apathy obvious.  
  
"You know, that's not very good for your back," the stranger quipped.  
  
Duo sat up. "And what place of yours it is to tell me how to- HEE-CHAN!!!!" He removed his hat and smacked Heero in the back of the head with it.   
  
Heero glared at him vehemently, but when Duo mimicked the stare of death, Heero cracked and shook his head. Duo smiled earnestly. "Glad to have the company on the trip South" he commented, but saw that Heero had only his laptop with him. He changed the subject, knowing he would get no conversation while Heero was occupied with the computer.  
  
"Three days. Set up, party, clean up. Why do I have to play hostess, again? I never get to party." Duo mock sniffled.  
  
"Because I trust you to follow directives verbatim. And your knowledge of the enemy is surpassed only by my own. Besides, you don't type half as fast as I do. On this mission, time is as vital as the air we breath." Heero continued to stare at the track, then suddenly stood and paced forward. Duo glanced at his watch. 4:35.  
  
They boarded the train.  
  
Chapter Four  
Strategy: Trivial Pursuit   
  
Duo realized the importance of the mission when Heero had first left the note. This was no time to disappoint. His control area was the North wing. It seemed to be cut off from the rest of the mansion, connected only by a narrow hallway in the second floor.   
  
The rattling of the train did not bother Duo so much as it hastened him. It was patterned, and thus affected his heartbeat in the same manner as music. Because it was fast-paced, it provoked him to work. Reviewing the directives was simply a matter of memorization, to some extreme. The QIB unit was read-only for disks with three types of files: document, images, and programs of simple structure (PSS's). Duo affectionately referred to the device as Quibby. Heero had scoffed at the idea of naming machinery in that manner, but Duo shook it off.  
  
'Why do I do that,' he pondered. 'I just shut out everything he says and does to me. Is it because the vast majority of his comments are derogatory?' Duo had always known himself to be a half-full cup kind of guy. Blatantly optimistic, he countered Heero in every aspect. Heero's glass was not even half-empty. It lay on the floor in pieces, dry because it had never been filled.  
  
Duo yawned and let his eyes close as he relaxed on the couch-like bed of the accommodating train compartment. In his mind he went through every step of the mansion, visualizing every aspect from the carpet colors to the angry, unforgiving glares of the long-dead generals whose portraits adorned the hallway walls. He pictured placing surveillance cameras, smoke charges, and motion detectors. He would not fail Heero.  
  
Chapter Five  
Strategy: Aggravation  
  
The first thing Duo noticed when he awoke was that he was alone. He quickly peeked inside his duffel to check that everything was still there, then patted his chest, reassuring himself that Quibby was inside his left coat pocket. Groggily checking his watch, he realized he had another twenty minutes.  
  
As he entered the black sedan waiting for him, he prepped himself mentally for the mission. Once inside the safety of the tinted windows, he removed his cap and placed it on the seat next to him. He took off the long coat and folded the bottom half up and buttoned it in place. The layered fabric hung well for a slim, black sport-coat. He took a gray tie out of his right knee pocket and put it on. 'Classy. Very classy,' he though to himself. He removed his pants and turned them inside out, revealing the fabric of the coat- thin black slacks. Putting them back on was a pain. 'Next time, no changes in the back of cars. K'so.' He swore as he tried to tuck his button-up white shirt back in.  
  
Sliding the duffel bag off the silver briefcase took more effort than he had expected, and he had just returned the canvas bag to his left knee pocket (he had to roll up the pant leg), when the car crunched to a stop on the gravel.  
  
He strode up to the porch of the weather-beaten mansion with an air of mundane duty. Boredom and authority settled over his brow like the clouds over the Big Apple in winter. It was sunny here, the soft breeze keeping his bangs from his eyes. He slid on a pair of black sunglasses that had been inside his pant pocket and knocked on the door twice.  
  
The large double doors had no windows. All the windows of the main building were covered with off white drapes. The mansion was both very old and very new at the same time, and it made Duo uncomfortable. What things could lurk within here that Heero needed a safety net while working on a computer?   
  
The right door was opened by a servant of approximately 17 years.   
"We have been expecting you, sir. I hope your trip was uneventful." Duo nodded and took the clipboard that was offered. The entrance hall was extravagantly decorated, and Duo was disgusted by such wastefulness. The room was a large oval, and directly across from the door was a stairway that went up twenty steps. Duo counted. He knew it by heart. A large painting of an overly bored aristocrat in a navy uniform with gold and white decorations framed most gaudily hung at the small landing, where the stairway split right and left. Small photographs and paintings of ladies in gowns and men with swords lined the walls on both sides. Duo was hardly distracted. On the form he used a code-name by which the other pilots could identify him. They each had a name used for gaining entrance to safehouses, known only by each other.  
Name: Lucas Mandrake Time: 4:42 Date: December 18th Purpose:   
He stopped and noticed that Heero had beat him here.  
Name: Joseph Starling Time: 4:30 Date: December 18th Purpose: Wiring specialist.  
Duo bit his lip. Heero was supposed to arrive at 5:00. This was odd. Oh well. Heero always has his reasons for doing things.   
Purpose: Checkup on Alarms.  
  
Duo smiled and handed the clipboard back to the servant, who bowed and set it on a small round table by the door.   
"If you would be so kind as to follow me this way, sir." He led Duo through a narrow passageway to the left of the stairs. The walls bore older photos, yellowed with age. The men wore beards and had large moustaches, and the ladies looked sad. They carried babes for which they seemed too young to bear, and their faces wore expressions of such experience it was unreal.  
  
Duo blinked, taking it all in but shoving it to the very back of his mind. 'This is neither the time nor the place to think about cradle robbers and men of the Civil War era. Just concentrate on the mission.' He reminded himself countless times.   
The room was cylindrical and contained a huge computer board, three chairs, and about thirty-six screens. Exactly thirty-six screens, he counted. Twelve across, three high. Divided into sections of four across. 'This will be fun,' Duo mused, and sat down at the center chair and popped open a wiring box underneath the desk. The servant turned and left once it was evident the man knew what he was doing. Duo smirked. Dimwit. He set his briefcase on the chair to his right and opened it. Taking a pair of wire-cutters, he snipped a green wire and a black wire. Twelve screens went dead. Removing a small, CD-sized box, he attached wires protruding from its back to the severed ones of the machine. Immediately the screens popped back on, albeit without showing the true actions of the South Wing, where Heero would be hard at work. Repeating the procedure, he protected himself. The South and North Wing screens now showed simulations of normal daily activities. The guards checked in each day, the clocks changed, and everything was recorded to tapes in the back of the room, where 6 file cabinets organized years of recordings.  
  
Chapter Six  
Strategy: Monopoly  
  
After replacing the necessary tapes, he packed his case and silently passed into the hallway to the North Wing. On the bottom of the frames on the walls he stuck a tiny radio-controlled smoke bomb. One of these was little more than an annoyance, but at least five would fill the narrow hallway. Duo's fifteen would severely disable any threat. After returning to the surveillance room, he double checked the video reception (perfect, as usual), and pushed the chair in noisily. He yawned in a manner designed to draw attention, and it proved successful when the attendant appeared in the doorway.  
"Finished, Mr. Mandrake?" he said, with a short but polite bow.   
"Quite, thanks. Everything is in perfect working order." He smiled earnestly and followed the servant to the door and allowed himself to be bowed out.  
Once outside, he jogged to the back of the mansion and entered through a small window in the half-bath. He swiftly arrived in the master bedroom, which was currently empty, and began to work.  
A smoke bomb on each of the posts of the king-size waterbed. Laser sensors on the bottoms of the main doorway and the master bathroom. This particular bathroom could only be accessed through the bedroom, and a small window that remained locked. The sensors triggered a vibrator that lay beneath his watch. He removed a small spray bottle from the briefcase and lightly doused the pillows with the clear liquid. It smelled of lavender, faintly, but had a powerful effect when in contact with the nose and eyes. He skipped across the hallway to a small room that was the servants quarters. On the left wall, there was a large heater grate which he removed, crawled inside, and replaced. It was a passageway prepared by Heero between the walls. Heero had done his job swiftly and well, obviously. Carefully tracing along the wall in the dark, he moved around the Wing until he was behind the wall of the master bedroom to which the bed was connected. Curling up in a haphazard way, he napped, waiting for his alarm to go off.  
  
Chapter Seven  
Strategy: Jeopardy  
  
When Duo looked at his watch, it was 11:30 am. 'This can't be right', he thought to himself. Slowly and cautiously he went to the grate and peeked through. Light flooded the chamber from the window.   
'HOLY SHIT!!' he bit his hand as it echoed through his head.  
Day two began, and his guests had arrived to no host. He entered the master bedroom and closed the door behind him, locking it.   
"What the?" muffled a rather distressed Treize as he untangled himself from the young girl's arms. "Duo Maxwell?" His hand reached to the drawer of his bedside table, frantically searching for his pistol. Duo swung it around his index finger.  
"Looking for this? You won't find it in there." The girl's face was in the pillow. 'She'll be out for a few more hours, thank God', Duo told himself. 'Deal with Treize'. He stopped twirling the gun and pointed it at Treize's forehead.   
"Silence, or mayhem. Your choice!" Duo smiled at his captive, who sat up straight and glared at him with ice blue eyes. When he found that his captive would behave, he tied hands and ankles. Treize's eyes cried out at Duo with fear, but then seemed to smirk. Disliking the look, Duo spritzed him in the face with the sleep inducing spray.  
'Why did he smirk? What did he know?' Duo was knocked off kilter by that reaction. So far, no problems seemed to have occurred because of his late start. Duo re-positioned Treize so it looked like he was still asleep with the whore and threw the blanket over them. 'That'll keep the guards away, no doubt.' His chest heaved nervously and he unlocked the door and hopped out into the corridor, closing it silently behind him.   
Within a split second, he knew the cause of Treize's smirk. He had triggered an alarm.  
A gunshot on his right. A spurt of blood flew forward and his left shoulder cried for attention. He slid behind the corner, breathing heavily. Three guards were coming down the hallway behind him, still out of range but approaching quickly. Duo reached inside his right coat pocket and retrieved a grenade, pulling the pin with his teeth. He threw it with his left arm, unwilling to release his death grip on the pistol, but making his shoulder scream.   
The grenade bounced off the right wall and rolled on the floor, exploding shortly after. The hallway was filled with smoke, having triggered the separate bombs, and shards of tile from the floor. Duo coughed and charged down the corner, taking out the three soldiers firing at him. Another set waits behind them.   
"Bring him down!" The leader screamed. it echoed through Duo's head. He dove back behind the safety of the corner, but three men emerged from the fading smoke.  
"K'so! I missed!" Low on ammunition, he charged the three in the smoke. A sharp kick disables the left soldier and he continues running. Into the North Wing. His already exhausted lungs pumped double time, striving to not give up due to the pain in his shoulder. A door on the left..What is it? What is it? I should have studied the floor plans better, like Heero told me...like Heero told me...  
He pushed off the opposite wall to change direction and burst through the door. Lady Une took a peaceful bath, reading a book. "Strategies of War" she noted his entrance and hurled the hardback at the back of his head hard and unexpectedly. He had been trying to leave as swiftly as he had entered but the door jammed. The force of the book pushed his head into the wall, knocking him out.  
As his vision faded out, he saw Lady Une pull a robe about herself before grabbing a communicator to alert the foot soldiers.  
'like Heero told me...'  
  
He was on his hands and knees before the locked door when she stepped up behind him, now wrapped in a white robe monogrammed "TK". He shook his head and brought his right leg around in an arc, sending Une to her ass on the floor. The remote communicator she had been gripping went flying across the floor as her arms flew out for balance. Duo stood and pulled a knife from the inside of his left arm.  
"Thank you, Lady Une."  
She glared at him in contempt, almost looking sensual, sprawled on the tile. She tilted her head up a notch, indicating that he should go on.  
"First of all, I appreciate the reminder to keep my head up" as he talked, he walked back and forth, slowly pacing in front of her as he flicked the knife this way and that to emphasize his speech. "Secondly, thanks for the book. I've been meaning to find something to read, and this looks rather interesting." He paused, before leaping at her, pinning her stomach and left arm with his knees and her right arm with his left hand. "But never, never mess up my hair." She spat in his face, triggering his reflexes so rapidly she did not even see the knife lunge at her throat. The blade was drawn through her slender neck, leaving only a thin, red line as proof of his attendance at this scuffle. "Bitch" he muttered, wiping his face off. He stood and resheathed the knife in the black leather straps on his right arm. He could hear the synchronized beat of more guards coming down the hallway. "Not only are theses guys always slow, they always come in threes" Duo remarked to himself. He took out Quibby and re-oriented himself. "So this is the half-bath" he grunted. It was larger than any living room he had ever occupied. "Wait a second..." turning Quibby off and returning it to his pocket, he tried to open the linen closet. False doors. He ran his hand down the side, letting his deft fingers fall into the outline of a square of wood that protruded ever so slightly. Pushing it revealed a staircase, as the front of the closet slid into the wall at the left. He scrambled up and turned back, hearing the pounding of the guards on the door as the hidden door closed behind him. Removing a lighter from his pocket, he proceeded up the stairs.  
  
Chapter Eight  
Strategy: Risk  
  
His right hand held the black pistol, Treize's fine specimen of a weapon. His left hand held the knife, but hidden behind his back, perpendicular to his stance. The stairs led up, through a passageway that was roomy enough to stand upright, but totally bare, then down again. Where the hell does this lead, Duo asked himself. Quibby offered no more answers than Heero programmed, and those were of no use to him now. He became aware of the tiniest noises. The soft rustling of his well-worn cargo pants. They were slim but comfortable, and had pocket space. He could hear the small E-vial tapping against his lock-pick. He brushed them apart within the pocket and resumed his cat-like prowl down the stairs. They leveled off. Another hallway. Electric lights in the ceiling. Somebody was trying, now. A door, wooden, makeshift, with a very rusted, obviously replaced, knob. He pressed an ear to the door.  
"Damn it, Kiske" A man drawled drunkenly. "Ah'll bet ya da pipsqueak pilots are crawlin' inta everythin'. Ya hear 'bout 'em en da news 'n all, but dat's afta da fact!" Duo rolled his eyes. "I kinda wonda' what Treize'll give us fer dis one." A thunk sounded, obviously his head on the table. Kiske offered a tone of agreement, higher pitched than the first man.   
'THEY HAVE HEERO! HOLY SHIT! IT IS ALL MY FAULT…'  
Duo's brain raced. He slowly opened the door and took note of the room. A cellar. With a small staircase up to the ground level. He could see out the window. Two fully awake, armed guards stood on either side of the room, who's main attraction was the table with the two drunken men. Duo took two down of the armed guards with his bullets, and in a feeble attempt, tried to hold up the knife to deflect anything aimed at his head. Bad idea. His whole arm screamed at him. He had yet to tend to the shot shoulder. The two men realized the pistol was empty before Duo did, and came in on him quickly. A shot through his right arm, scraping along the bone as it tore flesh and muscle. He was down. The men gagged, chained, and carried him off.   
"Damn you all.." Duo yelled through the cloth. Then he began to fade out. "Chloroform" he muffled, before entering unconsciousness.   
  
He awoke to a dark dungeon. 'Dungeon?' He thought. These old Southern places had everything. First the cellar. What the hell did they have a cellar like that for? His still-drugged mind reverted to a seventh grade history class. Something about slaves…running… escaping through hidden passages. That was it! It was an old slave escape and hideout. Wow. History in action, leading to his downfall. He had pranced right into a hangout for the guards of the mansion. The stones were cold. He sat up against the wall, his arms chained above him, steel driven deep within the stone. His mouth was still bound and his feet were chained together. He closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. He knew that the dark passageway in front of his bars would not remain empty if they knew he was awake. Best to try and get sleep when you can. He took a deep breath, biting his lip hard, making it bleed. Localized pain. One of the truly useful things they had taught him. To tune out extreme pain, use controlled, localized pain. Concentrate only on it. He tasted the metallic blood, cleaned it with his tongue, and left his arms to suffer alone, a separate entity.  
  
It was approximately three hours later when the guards returned, knowing the effects of the chloroform would have worn off by now. Duo did not give them the pleasure of acknowledging their entrance. Two of them. They entered his cell and locked it behind him. A code lock, totally mechanized. Again he was baffled by the odd mixture of very old and very new in this mansion.   
A hard kick in his ribs gave him an idea of what they wanted. He continued to leave his eyes shut and bite his lip.   
"Oooh. He's going to be a fun one to break. Are you here alone?" The man addressed Duo, after making his snide comment to his partner. Duo simply looked up at him, straight in the eye, silent. A twitch in the man's lip. He had a large temper and little patience. Another sharp kick, in the shoulder. Duo could feel the wound re-open and the blood commence flowing out his shirt. Steel toed boots were a bitch when captured. He groaned, but said nothing. The man grabbed Duo's hair, clutching it at the base of the braid and pulling tight.   
"Are you here alone?" The man repeated, his tone defying his will to sound cool and confident. No doubt he would receive poor treatment if he did not get information from Duo. Slowly, he pulled the braid out from behind Duo, taking it in two hands as he leaned in close, then rapidly pulling it against Duo's neck.   
Duo gasped, wishing he had the E-vile, more than anything. That would release him. NO. He had to go on, make sure Heero was okay. His presence on this mission was solely for Heero's protection, and now here he was, in need of rescuing. He wondered if the drunk soldier had been bluffing about the guards already having one pilot in captivity. Never trust a drunk man.  
The guard stepped on Duo's crotch, making the boy groan in pain.   
"Come on, little boy. Are you here all by your ittle-bitty self?" A smirk crossed the guard's face. What Duo wouldn't have given to wipe it free. The soldier got pissed.  
"Flip him over. Help me" The two men took Duo's hands and reversed them in the cuffs, so that he was on his knees facing the wall. 'I hate this' Duo though. It was fleeting though, as the whip seared a red lash into his skin. "Tell"  
Another. "Me"  
Another. "If"  
Another. "You"  
Another. "Are"  
Another. "Alone"  
Duo was prepared for this. He knew how it felt. His hands tore against the stone above the manacles, sanding the skin till it was bloody and his knuckles were white.  
'The worst they can do is make it hurt. I won't let them know that. I won't let them have the pleasure' Duo smiled on the inside, his face blank to the world. The man had stopped. Probably expected an answer. Obviously hadn't done this before. Duo knew what came next. It stung. Each of the six red stripes on his back burned with fire. Iodine. The man poured iodine down his back. This not only insured that he would survive the wounds, but it was a pain all in itself. The lashes he hated, this he dreaded. He could not even try to stop the tears from streaking his dirty face. Blood from his wrists dripped down his arms. The stone by his hands was painted red, resembling finger art of a kindergartner. No, these were no joyous works of art. They were works of pain. Torture he was prepared for. Torture he could handle. Not knowing how Heero was; that was pain.  
  
The next morning. He was supposed to be on the train home. With Heero. His face was streaked with dirt from the stone walls and his arms bore lines of blood. They dried on the hairs on his arms, itching horribly. But he tuned it out. His knees were black and red, sore from supporting all of his weight. But he felt nothing. His cheek rested on the stones that seemed to take everything from him; his blood, his body heat, and his strength. The muscles in his arms were suffering, and his fingers were gray. Blood loss. He paid attention to the things that caused serious problems. The wound in his left shoulder. The new bullet in his right forearm. His pants were uncomfortable from the odd humidity of the dungeon. It was old and musty. Death lingered in the air, begging to be remembered.  
Duo cried but didn't move. He dared not to aggravate the wounds in his back.   
'z, y, x…' He thought. 'w, v, u, t'. Long pauses between. This helped him concentrate on something… Anything other than his body. 'qrs….srq. yes.' He turned the letters around in sets of three, concentrating on the orders. That soon wore off.   
'one has three letters, two has three letters, three has five letters, four has four letters. Hmm…How many of the numbers have that number of letters? Another good mental exercise. 'five has four letters. Six has three letters. Seven has five letters. Eight has five letters. None of the others are going to be bigger than that. Damn. Another mental rut.' He sighed. The chains that held his arms were a foot in length, welded to a steel plate that was bolted twice into the wall. His knees ached. He had to get off of them. Pushing his body against the wall with his toes, he scraped and pulled until he was upright. He tried pulling on the old chains, testing to see if there was any way they could break, any weaknesses. One link was all it would take. He lifted a knee and patted his pockets. His heart leapt. They missed the small, sewn-in pocket in the largest pocket. Within a fold of the fabric was a small vial. Labeled E, for emergency. This was the last-ditch action. For now, he would live. He had hope. When he lost that, he would suicide with the E. Each pilot had the emergency vial, and it was Duo who nicknamed them Evil's, since they were Emergency Vials. Heero had even smiled when Duo first mentioned it. A precious smile. Duo honed in on the images in his mind. A picture of Heero, wearing the navy trench-coat. Calm, collected. His mind lingered on a particular photograph, one Quatre had insisted upon taking. Duo and Heero had been squished together in the armchair, Duo's head resting on Heero's shoulder. They had fallen asleep after a particularly boring documentary film on famous circus performers that Trowa had urged them to watch. It was a quiet photo. Duo picked the frame up every time he waked past, treasuring the memories.   
  
Strategies of War  
Chapter Nine: War  
  
It was four hours later when the two men re-appeared. A greeting kick in the ribs.   
"Ready to talk? Identify yourself."  
Duo kept his eyes closed, head up facing the wall.  
"Not quite yet. We'll getcha there. No worries." Duo refrained from looking; he would deal with the pain when it came. And it came.  
Needles. Stabbed into his back like acupuncture, but for each one was treated with something...They stung and burned. Duo gritted his teeth. Five were placed along his shoulders. He dared not move and aggravate them.  
"Each time you answer a question right, we will remove one. Each time you answer..." There was a considerate pause. "Not to our liking, we will add two. What do you think?" The man's voice was calm and stern. He had obviously been talked to about his tactics. Duo groaned softly, his shoulders aflame. He would gladly have suffered the loss of his left arm for the rest of his life if only it would take away the pain of the gunshot and needles.   
"First. Are you here alone?"  
"Yes." Duo whispered. He prayed that Heero was alright. He had absolutely no way of knowing at this point is Heero was free, or if they already had him.   
"Good. Now we're getting somewhere." One needle was removed from his back, sadly on the right side. At least the pain had been spread out. The muscles in his back were spasiming, twitching because of the foreign liquid. It made the needles hurt more as they moved in their tiny holes. It was bad enough that they were deep. It was worse that they stung. It was death when they moved.  
"Who sent you?" The next question.  
"I came of my own will." Duo gasped. He concentrated on the stone in front of him, letting the tears roll down his cheeks. He had no control over the reactions he was having.   
"I don't like that answer." Two more needles appeared, one next to the existing hole of the removed one, and another next to his vertebrae. He collapsed against the wall, hanging by the chains. Duo cried, weak and ill. His stomach was ready to rebel, his head was spinning, and his muscles had long since stopped resisting.  
"Let's try again" The man asked. He was determined and unaffected by Duo's reactions. "Who sent you?"  
A sob escaped Duo's throat. "I… I came on my own. God.." He could barely take it. "I swear, God.. I came on my own…"  
"Alright. That's enough for now. Let's go." He spoke to his companion, slightly arrogant. "Leave the needles" he added, as an afterthought.  
  
They left. Days passed. Silence insued. Duo had stood up again, trying to keep some blood, any blood, in his fingertips. The drugs on the needles had passed, but by this point Duo was standing in his own defecation. The soldiers would pass by, twice a day for daily inspection, and comment on the smell of the rat. They gave him a piece of bread and a cup of water each day, always making sure to spill half the water on him.   
The undernourishment had begun to effect him by the second week. His head was half gone. Prying his eyes open to look at the same wall he saw each day, Duo reached for the pocket on his knee.   
'I can't take it. I'm sorry I failed you, Heero. I'm so sorry." He took out his evile removed the top. The black vile was plastic, virtually indestructible, with a rubber plug. He leaned his head back and turned it down his throat. Instead of feeling the soft coolness of liquid, a piece of paper stuck to his tongue. He coughed on it, then took it in his hands, desperation complete. His eyes focused on the neat handwriting, hardly believing. Never before had one word been so potent to him.  
"Survive" written is black ink; Heero's handwriting.  
Duo cried. He sobbed into his blackened hands, pressing the paper to his stained cheek. Hours passed, and Duo regained his hope. He was restored. He could survive.   
'Focus' He told himself. 'Let's get our sorry ass out of this hell-hole.' He began looking around his cell, more discriminatory than before. He regarded each nook and cranny, each corner, as a new challenge. There was a small wad that had been a black shirt. It was against the wall on his right. Stretching his legs as far as possible, he dragged it to him, then up the wall until he could grab it. Anything…what was that saying, 'Any port in a storm?' This was more than a storm. This was his personal Armageddon. He softly ran his callused hands over the fabric, pressing it out. Buttons. Brass buttons. He ripped the thread with his teeth and put on of the buttons in his pocket. He continued to check it for anything helpful. His godsend arrived. In the layered fabric where the button holes were, resided a straight pin. It was greasy and old, but not brittle.   
With alacrity he began to work the shackles on his wrists.   
'click. Sha-shink. Click." He slid them off his wrists then massaged the sore bones. Sore everything. Rolling his hands over his thighs, his shoulders. Removing the long-since tarnished pins in his back. He would have given his life to reach them before but the second soldier, the quiet one had returned one night. He had entered and began whispering things about the rat. Duo had kicked a pile of his own shit at the man, getting it all over the man's pants. Furious, he had beaten Duo senseless, then replaced the pins down his vertebrae. As a final farewell, he pissed on the unconscious Duo and left. Pushing his hair from his face, Duo did a few quick stretches and began attending to the lock to his cell.  
  
Chapter 10  
Strategy: Sorry  
  
Mission one: acquire freedom. Mission two: find Heero. Mission three: Get home. Alive, preferably. Duo began to softly pad along the passageway. The floor was stone, and black coated fences were on each side of the wall. He quickly realized he had no way to defend himself if he did run into opposition. He looked around, and through the fences. They were sectioned off, like his cell, each with an easily-opened lock. Inside the one directly across from him were crates, stacked neatly. Each had a code printed on it. RM-2800; CM-850, and KA-1218. What…he paused. 'Holy shit.' He restrained himself from gasping as he rushed to pick the lock. RM's were Rafner Meladetros. The man, Rafner, had invented these guns for use in the third world war. They had the power of a bazooka, using exploding mini-missiles. Designed to take out platoons at a time, these guns were almost as dangerous for the user as the enemy- when brought out they were refused production due to the kickback that had a tendency to break shoulders, and the necks attached. Duo got inside the small cell, closed the door behind him, and pushed the boxes forward six inches so that he could work from behind them.   
The CM's were Cryto-Mandeftners. These had been pulled off the market because the accuracy had been too perfect. The government had hunted each and every one down to hoard for it's own use. There were five boxes here, each with eight guns. Duo swore under his breath as he took one out. The laser beam could sear straight through the enemies brain before they could see you sitting down the hallway, fifty yards away. He took one out and strapped it across his back. A smile crept over his lips. This might not be so bad, as long as directive two came out okay. The KA's he avoided as well. Standard semi-automatics that had been mutated so that if aimed at the feet of the enemy, shrapnel would spray in a perfect semi-circle. Dark red in color, people claimed they were stained by the blood of those they were used against. They were perfect for trench warfare, yet outdated by new methods. Kritaukan was considered a genius for his developments, but most just called him a lunatic. Things like the Kritaukaron Aradator should never be in the hands of human beings. For God's sake, someone might use them. Duo crept out of the cell, replacing the lock and moving to the next cell, quickly reading the markings on boxes before moving on. Every weapon ever invented was being stored right here. Private collections for use of the government. He wished more and more that Heero was with him; the more studious soldier would have easily been able to identify the initials and symbols. Duo tried to remember some. Others were obvious. Three crates were marked "Fragile- TK Private." Just because he was inquisitive, Duo felt compelled to look. Inside laid ten pistols, laid out with precision care. Each was wrapped in a velvet covering, treated with an anti-rust agent. The outside of each pouch was monogrammed with a year in gold. Duo's eyes widened as the name "Khushrenada" was etched into each pistol's barrel. He had run into a collection of historically accurate pistols from every century since the early 1700's. He put two in his belt in the back, one in the front, and another inside his shirt. Those would be useful for closer range shooting. He passed ten cells altogether, collecting a small variety of guns and hand-held explosives. He licked his hands and pasted his hair out of his face. 'Ready or not, here I come.'  
He found that the passageway led back to the room where he had first been caught. Two of the original guards stood there, the two who had made him suffer. For the quiet one, a shot through the head with the first pistol, the second one he shot in the crotch then came up close and pinned to the wall.   
"Where the fuck is Heero?" Duo screamed at they man, who was going into shock. He grabbed the man's throat and held him up against the wall, off of his feet.  
'guwwww' the man responded, his eyes filled with more terror than is usually deemed possible. He had earned every ounce of that pain. The rat was loose and ready to bite. Duo lowered the man to his feet, keeping his neck under restraint. He was too weak from the pain in his crotch to resist, but wanted to live, even if not to father a child.  
"be…beed…beedroom..upstairs" He said, frantically and hopefully. Duo had what he needed. He broke the man's neck with his bare hands. His shoulder and arm were dull, having healed badly. They would take months to heal properly after being re-set, but they would grow back fine. He was pleased with the blood splatters, having gotten a quick revenge without making too much of a mess. He ran through the hallway, back down into the half-bathroom. A servant taking a piss was promptly executed and slumped over. Duo could hear the alarms ringing by now and waited as a set of soldiers passed the door. He listened for when they turned the corner then set out behind them. They were approaching the back of the mansion. Another corridor and they were in the East Wing. Duo found the study in which Heero had been hiding and locked the door behind himself as he opened up the heater grate. It had been a joy to see that soldier suffer. Duo thanked Heero in his mind for making him memorize the key locations, even if they had been lacking in the details. This room was where Heero had operated from in the initial three days. What happened after that, Duo only prayed. His prayers were answered. A white square of fabric. Heero had succeeded in his mission and gotten out safely. A gray slip of fabric as well. He could not find his partner. Duo understood why all too well. That passageway was archaic and had probably never been formally drawn into any blueprints. Safety reasons more than anything. Heero was safe; mission two was complete. Only one remained. Get his sorry ass out of there. He left the room, conscience relieved, and set a laser-triggered smoke bomb across the hallway behind him. A trail of little goodies as he went to the control room. He was desperately curious as to how they had caught him. One man sat at the controls. A shot through the chest left Duo alone in the room. He looked beneath the desk, popping open the control panel, and found his disk replaced. Someone had made a joke out of his work and put on "Three hundred sex thrills in one night." He looked up at the screens and they all functioned properly. The asshole had wanted to make sure Duo knew he found it- he had left the mechanism there incase he came back. Duo turned it over, thinking of dangers. Sure enough, a small device attached to the bottom had a red LCD countdown. 5…4…3…Duo left it and ran out of the room, being pushed against the wall across from the door by the explosion. Another set of sirens blared, but Duo could run out the front door. He was so close. The servant at the entrance pulled a gun at him, a small black pistol, but Duo had shot him in the head before the man had released the safety. Duo smirked and threw the door open, running in the trees parallel to the gravel road.   
  
It was a two days and a night before he reached the city. He had long since buried the remaining pistols. It was breezy and cool in South Carolina, and Duo appreciated anything that wasn't the yellow light-bulb outside his cell. Natural light was a gift from the gods. But he made it. He came to a telephone and made a call to the private taxi service that would deduct the money from a special account. He picked up Duo and took him to the train station. Duo tried to call the apartment in New York, but there was no answer. He found an atm and took out seventy American dollars. He bought a ticket and a sweatshirt. Emaciated and exhausted, he arrived in New York at 2:30 in the morning, looking forward to food, sleep, and maybe some painkillers. Then again, he wouldn't argue if someone offered to take his arms off for him, at this point. Duo grimaced and unlocked the door with the same straight pin he had used to pick the locks of his cuffs and cell. It was dark and empty. No furniture, save an empty bookshelf in the corner. The desolate place offered no comfort to the ravaged boy, and he sat down in the middle of the floor, never bothering to turn the lights out, crying quietly, calming his nerves. Eventually he curled up in a fetal position and slept for four hours. He did not know what time it was when he awoke, but it was well into the morning. He stood and leaned against the wall, and in a fit of despair he slammed his fist into the wall. The back of the top shelf fell away, revealing a small hovel in the wall. He investigated, finding a well-used black gun, and a card, the ace of spades. In black ink, Heero's hand, was written "Survivor: Find Me."  
Three days had passed when Duo got off the plane in Los Angeles International. He had always wondered why they called it LAX. The X couldn't possibly stand for international. That was absurd. But then again, Southern Californians were, too. All seemed silent as Duo took a taxi into Hermosa Beach. It was a lovely city, brimming with life and filled with the salty scent of the Pacific Ocean. He reveled in the smell of life, and his heart leapt at the prospect of being reunited with his comrade, his lover. Too attached to throw them out, Duo still wore the black cargo pants, with the note still tucked inside the right pocket. The knees were completely gone, revealing his bruised but healing skin. His boots were scraped and soiled, but comfortable. He had had to replace his shirt, purchasing a gray, all-purpose collared shirt. It appealed to him at the time because of the fabric. It was so soft. So unlike anything he had experienced in the last two months.   
Even the smog in the air felt good to him after the musty odor of the cell. Besides, it made for an amazing sunset. Duo opened the door to the apartment overlooking the ocean with his straight-pin, which he now kept in the evile, wrapped in the note. When he entered, he found Heero and Wufei sitting at the table, nursing half-empty drinks. Each had a look of fatigue weighing down their eyes. Heero was the first to look up, and immediately swept Duo in his arms. Wufei could only stare, a look of utter disbelief on his face. Duo smiled.   
"it's okay. We're alive and you were successful. We survived." He justified his very existence with those words. Heero opened his mouth to try to apologize for not being able to save him, but Duo simply kissed him on the lips, then slid into a comfortable embrace, whispering in Heero's left ear.  
"Never say you're sorry. It's all part of the game."  
Mission Accomplished.   
  



End file.
